The End
by When Lambs Become Lions
Summary: My first fanfic. I thought this up in the middle of the night. Basically a word vomit of a revised ending to Dragon Age 2 in which a male rogue Hawke can actually change the outcome. Contains Frenris/Hawke, but not explicit.


"Fenris…"

He walked away, slowly reluctantly, secretly wishing that Hawke would call out and stop him, run to him and grab him and shake him and kiss him and demand that he stay.

But only silence came from behind him, a silence that cut deeper than any sword and burned more than his lyrium markings. But the tears came. The tears he never cried. The tears he never cried over his lost life. The tears he never cried over his cruel enslavement. The tears he never cried over his sister, dead by his own hand. The tears he never cried over the burning, burning pain that accompanied him even in sleep. He had sworn that he would never shed a tear.

But he cried for Hawke. He cried for the laugh that would never end. He cried for the deep blue eyes that pierced into the very soul and saw everything, yet still were kind. He cried for the smile, and the soft lips he would never kiss. He cried for the voice that would never call his name in the depths of night. He cried for the fire in Hawke, radiating a warmth he would never feel again.

"Fenris!"

The elf stopped, almost not believing he'd heard it: the rage and the pain and the LONGING that echoed in his beloved's voice. He would have turned, would have sprinted headlong back into Hawke's arms and damn the mages, damn the Templars, and damn HIM. But he could not let Hawke see him cry. Fenris stayed where he was.

"Fenris," His voice was low and even now, the voice of the Champion, whose word was absolute. "Turn around, right now." Fenris remained still. "I can find you anywhere," Hawke growled, walking forward. "And I will. There is not a corner of Thedas or any other land in which you can hide. I WILL FIND YOU. And I will drag you back kicking and screaming, on foot if I have to, and NOTHING," he grabbed Fenris' shoulders and spun him around, "WILL STOP ME." He pulled Fenris into a deep kiss. It was rough and fierce but oh it was sweet, sweeter than anything. Hawke's hand pressed him close while the other cradled his head, and he seemed to have no intention of letting go anytime soon, until somebody behind them coughed.

"As disgustingly sweet as that was," Meredith said coldly. "I think we have more pressing matters to attend to, maybe the Chantry BURNING TO THE GROUND? The mages REBELLING? THEY HAVE TO PAY!" Her voice was now high and loud, crazed.

Hawke very slowly released Fenris and turned to face the Knight-Commander. His eyes were cold as steel. "The Chantry was the work of a single apostate-" his voice caught on the last word-"abomination. The spirit of vengeance inside him drove him to this-no, it was YOU that drove him." Now Hawke's voice was rising. "Just as you drove every single mage that turned to blood magic! Your cruel treatment of them is nothing less than DEMONIC, but you don't see that, do you? All you see are demons, and in your JUVENILE attempts to keep them at bay, you press the mages. But the harder you press, Meredith, the harder they push back, not because they are all lusting after blood magic and demons, but because they must push to SURVIVE. Mages are just scared of demons as you, are MORE scared. Do you know what it's like to lose yourself? But you, in your blind lunacy, didn't see, so you only pressed harder, until finally the mages broke." Hawke stood very close to Meredith so he was looming over her, his eyes burning with a rage that only injustice-or stupidity-could evoke in him. His voice dropped, low so that Meredith had to strain to hear. "I will help you stop the mages and bring an end to all of this, but on one condition. If you don't agree, I will raze what is left of the Chantry, the Gallows, the Viscount's rotten Keep, and every Templar that stands in my way."

Meredith was cowed, but the only indication of it was a bead of sweat on her brow and a swallow before she spoke.

"What is your condition, Hawke?"

"You will step down as Knight-Commander immediately. You will give the command to Knight-Captain Cullen. You will resign from the Templars. You will leave Kirkwall and never come back. You will never let me hear of you, and you will never draw sword again." Meredith was shocked, and got a little of her nerve back.

"You DARE to make such demands? I will NEVER accept! Knights! Take-" she was cut short by Hawke's dagger at her throat.

"That is not a wise move. You have seen me-hired me, even-to cut through dozens of blood mages and the abominations that you are so dreadfully scared of. You really think you can stand against me? Perhaps, with enough men, you could subdue me, but how many lives are you willing to throw away, only so you can kill more? Surely you're not THAT insane. You can save dozens, even hundreds of lives just by leaving."

"And I suppose you're just going to let the mages go, eh?" Meredith hissed. "Give them a pat on the head and send them off to enslave us all and create a new Imperium?"

"Don't be stupid. Mages need to be watched vigilantly. YOU just took it too far. Orsino will get the same offer as you, and the abominations will be dealt with, as will the mages that turned to blood magic."

Meredith snarled like a caged animal. She turned from Hawke and looked at her men, each and every one of whom she would die for. She cursed Hawke, and with an angry cry she threw down her sword. She turned back to the rogue that had bested her with a word.

"And the apostate? The abomination that destroyed the Chantry? What will you do with him?"

A look came into Hawke's eyes, a look of sorrow and anguish and immeasurable regret as he sentenced his once-friend to a fate worse than death.

"He will be made Tranquil."


End file.
